


you'll see me differently in the morning

by tnevmucric



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, akira is more fatalistic than he realises, coping but not coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnevmucric/pseuds/tnevmucric
Summary: how did it come to this





	you'll see me differently in the morning

He dreams of an immeasurable pain.

The train car is quiet with half-asleep strangers and music students up hours earlier than they should be. The expanse of glass windows are like fog blockades and he has to stare at his lap to refocus his vision (he counts his fingers, in case they're not all there. He counts the wrinkles on his hand).

The last station lulls the train to a stop and he takes a long moment to keep for himself- to unjumble his thoughts and tongue. He's hanging by a thread, now, and the end of the year is coming too close for comfort. His shoes feel tight and he stands without the weight of his cat-heavy bag. The fog has dispersed in this part of the city and so have his fellow passengers. He stands unsure on the platform, body tense and hands clenched at his hips in weak fists: all Akira wants is a full night of rest.

A warm hand smooths over his back and splays out over his shoulder blade while the other holds the inside of his elbow. It's a soothing gesture, one that relaxes his muscles just enough, and he turns his head in time to see the traitor smile at him. Rare and in high demand, they are slow gifts that unravel before his eyes. The traitor wears a velvety, emerald jumper that cuffs halfway down his forearms. His nails are short and smooth. His hair sits at his shoulders and so reverently, so suddenly Akira wants to  _be_ there. He wants that something inside him to be smothered by this traitors vanilla shampoo.

He takes a slow breath. Counts to ten. They stand still, letting the world around them settle while the minutes only bring them closer to midnight. The advertisement boards flicker. The traitor slides one hand down and pulls up his hand, prodding at a bruise on his wrist.

"Have you been sleepwalking again?", he asks nonchalantly, as if their current interactions weren't a repetition of their sporadic nighttime meetings. Akira nods faintly, though, and the traitor hums: squeezing his hand once before pulling away completely- save the firm hand on his back. "Let's go."

The walk is a painted moment of gold. Subdued and faint, Akira feels as though he is a faraway ghost, being lead straight into the empty chill of a labyrinth. The traitor glances over at him, an indicating pinch to his mouth.

"Would you like to go home?", he asks and his hand returns to his elbow in something of reassurance. "Is that what you need?" Akira shakes his head and waves his hand; he stomps on his own throat and pretends (if for a moment) his voice box is damaged to a point beyond repair.

Only the small lines are let out- the inevitably smouldering ones that will touch the traitors ears with the sound of a _boom_.

"I'll be okay."

Quietly, Akira thinks, _I've found a temporary that I don't want to lose._

The building, the stairs, the door- all are tall and washed in an acid blue. The walls are pristine and scrutinising: he tries to rub his eyes but his glasses get in the way. The traitor makes a small sound, unlocking the door with one hand and latching his fingers onto the sharp edge of Akira's hip.

"I wish you'd called me earlier."

 _Something forces me into my own lungs_ , Akira's brain throbs. _It insists I will never fit inside myself._ His skin itches.

"Don't worry about tomorrow", the traitor breaks him out of his dwindling thoughts. The room is dark and bright at the same time: a green hue clings to his line of sight. "Tomorrow will worry about its own things. Its own troubles. Lie down, baby."

Being flat out on the bed is a reunion best kept under the rising arch of his lower back and the languorous breath he takes with the traitors lips pressed against his neck. Arm out, he thinks to his trailing hand: _it's good to see you again_... and yet being reunited hurts. His body twists.

"You know", the traitor closes his eyes by his thigh (just when the room has risen to dangerous temperatures), "you've touched so many lives. You change more hearts than you realise. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"That-", Akira stutters somewhat incoherently, "God. _God_ , Goro." How lucky he would be to feel easy and free. He gasps out onto the pillow and savours the way it cups his cheek, wanting the moment branded behind his eyes, never to be forgotten. _You impress me_ , writhes on the tip of his tongue, _you make me escape myself one way or the other._

He gasps mouthful of cotton.

_No more walls._

He thinks of the immeasurable pain, the indescribable weight pierced into his tongue which hangs like a chain down his throat, twisting around his spine and through his intestines all the way to his toes.

Akira thinks of his friends. He thinks of his life and what little he's lived of it- what little he wants to face.

After all of this, when it surmounts to the climax of his journey and he's fixed everything that he's needed to fix and he's fulfilled the extents of his contract, he has the sneaking suspicion he won't last long. That pointlessness will return and nothing will matter in the face of it. Everything he will end up wanting will most surely diminish and he, will most surely, diminish. And if by the freak chance of luck that they all survive, it'll all collapse anyway.

His bonds are fragile things and his bones aren't much different.

"Can I stay a few more nights?", he's found his voice, somewhere between the layers of sheets and Goro's nose bumps his jaw, "Just a couple."

"You have school, Akira, it's a long commute."

"You know I can skip", he shoots back quickly, "Please, just- just this. Nothing else, it's got nothing to do with-"

"I know", Goro reassures, but even through the dark Akira spies the tenseness in his jaw. "... get some sleep, first, and then we can talk about this in the morning. You've had a rough few days."

"We're running out of time", slips out. Its formality is lost and he's gripping on too tightly, he knows, to something already so distant. "Goro."

The dream he has that night delivers a decisive blow to his already fracturing reality. He spends the next two nights with the traitor: even when it kills him.


End file.
